Justice is Served
For Sartre, "l'enfer, c'est les autres," but for me hell is a high school musical, and yesterday I was definitely in a circle that Dante designed especially for me: Catherine's nephew was in "Beauty and the Beast" and so we all went-- Catherine, me, Alex, Ian, Catherine's mom, Catherine's brothers and their significant others (I think the French have a more elegant word for this . . .) and I mention this only because there were a lot of people around to hear me complain, and complain I did, because it was hot as hell in the theater-- and those of you who know me know I have a low tolerance for heat, but this was ridiculous pumping death heat, rivulets of sweat rolling down my back heat, my buttocks floating in a pool of liquid heat, Ian getting red-faced and croaking "water" heat, and we were in the first row on the side (great for the kids, they loved it, and I must admit, it was an amazing production, hundreds of times better than what is put on at my high school-- but it was still insipid) which was right next to the speaker, and my ears are sensitive from years of listening to bad guitar rock, so I was miserable, and I took Ian out early before intermission because he was sweating so much, but Catherine guilted me into going back in after the break (and this thing was LONG) so I switched to sit back by her brother and his "le petite amie" but she tried to voice a concern but she was too nice to say it, and it was this: they were sitting next to an EXTREMELY obese woman who hadn't booked ahead of time and could only get one seat for her AND her two kids, so in my quest to finder a cooler, quieter place, I instead found myself punished for my complaining, and squashed against a mountain of flesh, with someone else's seven year old on my lap (and she kicked the thirteen year old girl in front of me and the girl thought that it was me that touched her head and kept looking back at me like I was some kind of child molester) and then we ended up waiting for pizza for over an hour at Pete and Elda's-- it was packed, so the kids went sort of nuts, and Catherine was mad at me because I thought that I should be able to drink beer at the restaurant because this was her idea and trip, and I didn't even bring up the rule of etiquette, which is this: the person whose family it is NOT gets to drink, but now is not the time to bring this up.
Playground Illusions (and Allusions)
Alex and Ian were playing "pirate-ship" on the jungle gym with a bunch of kids the other day, and Alex started yelling, "sirens, sirens, watch out for the sirens!" and I thought he was talking about some sort of imaginary approaching police boat, but then he continued, "don't listen to the Sirens' singing! we're going to crash into the rocks!" and I realized that-- for better or worse-- that I am raising a nerd.
This IS Going to Hurt
You know it's trouble when the dentist actually tells you something is going to hurt-- but I did learn something: a pus-filled abscess infection can reverse the polarity of anesthetic, rendering it useless, unless the infection is irrigated and-- and this is the part that hurt-- the dentist gives you a shot of Novacaine in the roof of your mouth.
These Are My Demands
We're meeting with the architect today to tell him what we want our new kitchen to be like, and I want to give him a few unrealistic demands-- just to keep him sharp-- so I'm going to tell him that I need eight kegs of beer chilled at all times, that once or twice a year I like to roast a camel, and that I cultivate escargot and I need a large aquarium within reach of the stove-top.
Am I Some Kind of Dancing Monkey?
It's been a busy day (I had to sign Alex up for pre-school among other things) and I haven't been able to think of anything particularly clever for my sentence, but what am I?-- some kind of clown?-- some kind of talking monkey here to amuse you?-- do I look like your clown?-- your puppet?-- your marionette? your blow-up sex doll, to be treated like some piece of passive plastic?
How To Get to Leave Work Early
Yesterday, I had to leave school early because the zipper on my fly broke (I tried to fix it with a piece of double-sided tape because I was supposed to cover a class for my friend, but she said, "I can't even look at you. Go home.")
Anapestic Birthday Wishes
Today is the day-- now I'm thirty-eight!--
The Doctor and I share the same date--
If Seuss were alive, he'd be one-o-two,
And if I were like Horton, then I'd hear a Who!
(Actually, Seuss would be one-o-four,
but that is a fact that I choose to ignore).
The Doctor and I share the same date--
If Seuss were alive, he'd be one-o-two,
And if I were like Horton, then I'd hear a Who!
(Actually, Seuss would be one-o-four,
but that is a fact that I choose to ignore).
Other Minds
Alex turned four today, and he's he's having a few friends from school over, which is very weird-- that he has this life of his own separate from ours-- but then I guess I find it weird that anyone has a life of their own separate from mine; I generally think that when people I know aren't with me, then they're just hanging around thinking: "I wonder what Dave is doing?"
Winter Is Coming for Whitney
Whitney came to visit last night, but he was woefully unprepared for the cold weather-- he had his work shoes, thin socks, a light jacket, stylish but useless leather gloves, and he actually had to borrow my bomber hat (he refused a Yankees ski hat); this wasn't a problem, however, as we decided to skip the curling and instead meet the usual suspects at Charlie Brown's-- inside-- and, then while we were planning our next move-- to walk to New Brunswick-- Whitney caught a break and Mose gave us a ride to New Brunswick (I got shafted and had to ride in the back seat atop many layers of flattened cardboard boxes), but after a good time in the Corner Tavern and a better time at Giovanelli's (Whitney has learned something since his last visit-- though he ordered two sandwiches, he only ate a half of each one) Mose offered to drive us home-- another break for ill dressed Whitney, but then his luck came to an end and Mose got a flat (this was 2:30 AM and it was cold) and it took a while to wrench the lug nuts loose and an even longer while to get the jack to work and old man winter finally got his revenge on the poorly prepared man from Norfolk.
You Hugged My Fart
Some primitive attempts at humor last night from the kids: when Cat's mom said "See you in the morning" to Alex, he replied back, "See you at night!" and laughed like a lunatic; Ian kept it scatological, when he farted while I was holding him he said, "You hugged my fart," and then when the two of them were taking a bath, Alex asked, "Who farted?" and Ian held up a plastic shark and said "this fish."
Funny When?
I watched "Trailer Park Boys" last night, after a long hiatus from them; they weren't as funny as I remembered-- but I'm going to keep at it-- maybe I'm not as funny as I remembered?
Anyone Can Draw and Amoeba
I've been creating some poorly drawn animation on my tablet: if anyone has any easy-to-draw plot ideas for my amoeba sitcom, send them my way.
Dave Does Coz
Went with Catherine to see Bill Cosby last night, with the MAN and the woman . . . and if it wasn't for the BEER . . . well, then you youngzzzsterrs . . . if you are . . . NEWLY married-- let ME tell YOU whatzzit, if the, and he HAD . . . no not that, I KNOW what he had . . . I was THERE-- he had a certain way of . . . it's the THING with the . . . smokezz, yebbit, therebit izza smokezzinby mouf . . . FIRE . . . yes, riiiiight . . . the THING about it is therezzz pages left OUT-- when the GOD and the EVE in the GARDEN . . . you hideth from Godeth?-- and Mr. Clean did a twenty minute routine about Viagra and his "johnson" and falling to the FLOOR and you stick there . . .
Winter Fun!
Like Father, Like Son
It was only Alex and me at the breakfast table this morning; he looked at me and said "We're both picking our noses!" and it was true, and then he burped and asked to be excused.
Amoeba Love
Today, instead of using my snow day wisely and doing my taxes while the children napped, I wrote a short love song about amoebas and animated it on my tablet laptop. . . my rationale: anyone can draw an amoeba.
Dave Controls the Weather
To celebrate the 100th Sentence of Dave I have arranged for a snow day; please show your appreciation by clicking on the ads.
Is This Normal?
Yesterday I consumed (in chronological order): two packs of oatmeal, an apple, a yogurt, five Munchkin Donuts, a cobb salad and jalapeno chips from Wawa, some coffee, chicken nachos, three beers, some chocolate, chicken sausage and peppers and pasta, and some more chocolate.
How Can You Remember If You Forgot?
I realized on Monday that I've been driving without my license since early December-- I needed to show my ID at the Philadelphia Zoo because I hadn't signed my credit card, but I couldn't find my license in my wallet-- but the funny thing is, I forgot that I didn't have my license by the end of the zoo visit, and so I drove home from Philly with no license and it wasn't until yesterday when Catherine reminded me that it was missing (she remembered at school and put her wedding ring on the opposite hand so she would remember to tell me to continue my search) and I found it in my little wallet, which I carry when I want to travel light, and the last time I used it was when we went to the city in December.
Acting! Is Very Silly . . .
I suffered through hours of Kate Blanchett pretending to be Queen Elizabeth because I wanted to see the Spanish Armada battle scene, and it turned out to be cheesy, but it serves me right for wanting Elizabeth to be a different kind of movie than it was (and I should have followed my own rule-- which is that I don't watch movies that are all about acting-- especially when someone is trying to act like a historical figure or a famous person because this film begins with doting 360-degree camera shots of the Queen in every possible setting and outfit).
2/18/2008
The warm weather made the animals extremely active at the zoo today-- polar bears wrestled underwater, penguins breached, the lions were actually roaring, a tiger cub tackled his mother, and the rattlesnakes and cobras slithered in their tanks (it was also the first time I've ever seen a Gila monster move)-- but my most exciting animal encounter occurred at this 6:30 this morning, while I was recording some music: I was wearing headphones, the house was quiet, and I was immersed in the sound of the drum machine and backing guitar, when a large black bug fell from the ceiling and landed on my pick-hand; it was either a spider or some kind of beetle, but I flung it off so quickly that I didn't identify it, and I'm very proud that I didn't shriek loudly enough to wake the house (completely unrelated: on the way home from the zoo we passed a nursery and their placard read Pot Sale . . . Not that Kind!)
2/17/2008
Yesterday, my two sons and I formed a short lived rock'n'roll band, and my son Alex came up with our name: The Junior States (he had a rationale for this but I missed it because Ian had just jammed Legos into the keyboard and it was making a lot of noise).
THAT'S Fresh
I listened to 8 Diagrams on my eight-mile run this morning, and the Wu-Tang is still "keeping it fresh like Tupperware."
This Sounds Stupid (And Maybe It Is)
I hate it when actors have to act: for example, Catherine and I were watching an entertaining thriller called Primal Fear and the part requires Edward Norton, the alleged killer, to stutter-- some idiot wrote that in the script as part of his "character"-- and it's torture, because instead of enjoying the movie and speculating about who really did it, I'm thinking about how weird it must be for Edward Norton to have to pretend to have a speech impediment.
2/14/2008
A few weeks ago, I challeneged Alex to rub his belly and pat his head at the same time, but he was unable to do it and never mentioned it again until last night, when, just before bed, he said, "Look what I can do" and then he did it-- soI guess he was practicing in secret until he felt the time was right . . .
2/13/2008
A bittersweet day: Alex conquered the sled hill by our house for the first time, but Ian was sick with a fever and had to stay inside.
2/10/2008
The new kitchen is always the topic around our house: yesterday's topic was why does a stone floor feel colder than a wood floor when either one is going to be the same temperature as the rest of the house-- and I found the answer on-line; it is because stone is more dense and thus a better conductor of heat or cold and since the floor will generally be cooler than 98.7, it's going to make you feel colder (which leads one to wonder how cold Viggo Mortensen was during the filming of the naked knife fight in Eastern Promises-- he spends a lot of time crawling around on a stone floor.)
No Context, No Reward
I learned two things last night: God is a giant ear, and a "hook-up" is when you smuggle prison food out of the dining hall and back to your room, where you then try to make it a serviceable meal with whatever other materials you have on hand (for example, you take noodle soup and pour it into a bag of crushed cheese puffs and then put it under your pillow for ten minutes-- it congeals into a jail-house "burrito").
2/8/2008
Alex approached me with another "drawing" of his and I got ready to channel my time spent in the Uffizi (I use the Stanislavski method when I pretend that the scribbles my children produce are actually representative of something) but the person he drew had two arms, two legs, a face, two eyes and a mouth!
http://www.thebestpageintheuniverse.net/c.cgi?u=irule
Emu Farm
A new song by Greasetruck, but it's the same old story: boy meets girl, boy tries to impress girl by purchasing an emu farm, boy neglects security at said farm, emus escape, chaos ensues, stray emu kicks boy's girlfriend in the shin, and boy leaves town (I recorded the song on a Zoom Mrs-8, a tiny portable digital recorder and stuck the audio over a couple of random Youtube videos with some free Windows MovieMaker software).
Fourteen Words That Will Kill Your Buzz
I was having fun writing my trilogy of aphorisms about time, until I read this last night in Nabokov's Speak, Memory: "our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness."
2/5/2008
Living in the present is an impossible dream: one part of the mind is always anticipating the future, while another constantly assesses the past.
2/4/2008
Thinking about the past is a trap: remembering the bad times is depressing, and reminiscing about the good times is depressing as well, because inevitably, things have changed.
2/3/2008
Alex's swim lesson will be ten minutes longer today, to make up for the time that was lost last week because some kid upchucked in the pool.
2/2/2008
On Google Trends you can observe the top 100 web searches for the day-- it's a window to the consciousness of the world; on the day Heath Ledger died his name was the top search-- and number two was "Keith Ledger."
Homeless Elbow
Two days ago in Boulder, my friend Ryan and his wife Cat were attacked by a homeless man with a club-- Ryan took a shot to the head before Cat wrested the club from the attacker and beat him with it-- she reported in the paper that her arm was sore from bludgeoning the itinerant . . . seriously!
Finned and Defused
I'm reading Marvin Minsky's The Society of the Mind (his treatise on intelligence, artificial and otherwise) and Neil Shubin's Your Inner Fish: A Journey into the 3.5 Billion Year History of the Human Body at the same time: I don't know whether I'm a very complicated robot or a very hairy shark.
It's Hard to Start Hamlet With A Hangover
If you have plans for the Super Bowl, make sure they're flexible-- because I sent an e-mail to the President of the Fox Network asking him to move the game to Saturday evening (I'm starting Hamlet on Monday and I don't want either myself or my students to be tired from watching the game).
I'm Above This Kind of Gossip
Apparently, the story that Mark Hamill got into a car accident and had reconstuctive surgery on his face between filming The Empire Strikes Back and The Return of the Jedi is an urban legend . . . not that I care or anything . . . but his face does look kind of different . . . but what do I care?
How Much Does a Coffee Filter Filter?
This morning I spilled the entire canister of coffee beans onto the kitchen floor (which isn't terribly clean, Alex and Ian are slobs) , but I swept up the scattered beans and salvaged them; a coffee filter strains out dirt and old food, right?
The Hassler
Eighteen consecutive missed pool shots (including a break that flew off the table and into the wall) are erased by one lucky jump shot.
Dave Rationalizes Violence in the Office
I'm starting to feel less guilty about punching Brady in the leg yesterday-- in fact, because of his history of madcap pranks, I'm starting to think that maybe he even deserved to get punched in the leg-- as just desserts for past mischief . . . despite his innocence in this particular shenanigan.
I Punch a Colleague For No Good Reason
Unfortunately, the title of this post is accurate, but there were donuts involved so I think you'll understand how it happened and empathize with me . . . I walked into the English office yesterday, ravenous, and I saw a full box of donuts on the table-- so I grabbed a Boston Creme and pulled up a chair-- pulled the chair right up to the table, in front of the box of donuts, as I wasn't planning on eating just one donut . . . I planned on sitting down and eating several donuts-- and the office was crowded so I wanted to be as near as possible to the donuts-- and then I went to sit down on my chair-- the chair I had just pulled up to the table-- but there was no chair . . . I had sat down on air-- the chair was gone-- and as I was falling I looked over my shoulder and saw my friend and colleague Kevin laughing hysterically and in that split second I decided that he had pulled the chair away (if you knew him, you'd know that kind of prank would be right up his alley) and instead of breaking my fall with my hand, I lunged and punched him in the leg-- hard-- and then I hit the ground; Kevin said, "Why'd you hit me?" and most people in the office were appalled by the violence, but my friend Eric approved-- because pulling a chair out from someone as they sit down to eat a donut is not only low-class but also dangerous . . . but as it turns out, he didn't pull the chair away-- the chair was never there in the first place-- in my excitement to eat the donut, I thought I pulled a chair up to the table but, apparently, I didn't . . . so Kevin was laughing hysterically because he had never seen a grown man sit on a non-existent chair, not because he had pulled it away, and so not only did I fall awkwardly in front of eight colleagues, but I also punched one of them in the leg for no good reason.
I'm Not Superstitious Anyway
If the Giants lose, I'll shoulder the blame (I was growing a Giants good-luck victory beard, but it got really itchy so I shaved it.)
To Drool or Not to Drool
I have to stop bringing such good sandwiches to work (e.g. ham, mozzarella, fried peppers, onion, lettuce, and balsamic dressing-- Catherine made me one yesterday and I replicated it today) because it's all I think while I'm teaching my morning classes, and when I think about food I salivate profusely, and salivating profusely is no way to teach literature.
Personification Poisons Dave's Mind
I am so pissed off at my new USB hard drive that I can't think coherently enough to write a meaningful sentence.
Do Not Be Tempted By The Plethora of Signs
Don't stop at Lake George if you need fuel and also need fast access to a bathroom-- the amenities are a long way off the exit!
If Bruce Were in Futurama
Tonight, we'll be racing the storm up Route 87-- it almost sounds like a Bruce Springsteen song, aside from the kids in the back watching "The Incredibles" on their miniature video screens.
Te ves sexy en ese bikini de metal . . .
I finally got my comeuppance for illegally burning DVD's I get from the library-- we sat down to watch "Return of the Jedi" only to find that the dialogue was dubbed in Spanish (not that it made much difference, I think the boys understood it just as well, and Princess Leia is still just as hot in her metal bikini).
Weather.com: Do They KNOW What 100% Means?
Despite the one-hundred percent chance of snow Weather.com promised, we are going to school today-- but I guess a Giants victory over Dallas and a snow-day would be too much to ask for.
Where the Fuck Do You Get Lunch on a Saturday in Princeton?
Who knew that both Conte's and Tortuga's Mexican Village are both closed for lunch on Saturdays?
Can We Get A Replay On That?
Ours was a house of vomit and and worse last night (but Catherine did make an amazing play at the vegetable market-- she saw Ian's mouth watering, and in one motion she grabbed a plastic bag, tore it off the roll, opened it, positioned it . . . and he upchucked into that instead of all over the avocados).
1/11/2008
Finally, relief from the worm that's been gnawing at my brain: the ramp for the new crawl space can go inside the basement!
1/10/2008
Last night, spellbound by his first viewing of the Star Wars Trilogy, Alex insisted that "The Empire Strikes Back" should actually be called "Darth Vader on the Loose!" (exclamation point his).
1/9/2008
I'd like to thank the U.S. Postal Service for getting me my movie on time-- "Street Fight" arrived today and now the rest of my week will be smooth and easy.
1/8/2007
I'm really counting on Blockbuster to mail me "Street Fight" -- if it doesn't arrive by Friday I'm going to have to teach.
1/5/2008
We met with the kitchen design lady the other night, and she showed us some very nice kitchens she designed-- but they were TOO nice, it made nervous-- if our kitchen is that nice, then do we have to start making the rest of our house nice?-- and where does it end?-- do I have to start dressing nice?-- driving a nice car?-- saying nice things to people?-- do I have to get that little skin flap cut off my eye-lid so I look nice? do I have to eat better food so my flatulence smells nice?-- where do you draw the line in the sand?
1/3/2008
Last night, Catherine asked Alex to turn down the volume on the stereo, but he turned the knob the wrong way and turned the volume WAY up; he then clapped his hand over his ears, screamed, and ran into the kitchen-- it was really really funny.
Why Are There So Many Televisions At The Gym?
Catherine and I went to the gym together on New Year's Day, and we put Alex and Ian in the kid's play area while we worked out-- it's a large open space with a indoor jungle gym and some of those big red and yellow cars that you sit in-- they were very excited, but when we returned, the lady had turned the TV on and this annoyed me because I wanted my kids to get some exercise, not watch TV, and because we never let them watch any TV, they get mesmerized by it, and essentially can do nothing else but watch the screen-- even if it's crap-- so the question is: if we do this again, can I ask the lady not to turn the TV on?
1/1/2008
My sentence per day completion rate is now one hundred percent for 2008, as compared to a pitiful 10.4 percent for 2007-- I'm also one hundred percent in 2008 for not losing my temper at the kids . . . as compared to a pitiful 6 percent in 2007.
Scary and Thrifty
Yesterday, Alex told me that he's practicing scary faces so that next Halloween he won't need to wear a mask.
Three Out of Four Would Be Good
Time to start thinking about some New Year's Resolutions for 2008-- I really want to feast more often on the blood of the innocents, make it a habit to exact vengeance on those that cross me, sample those exotic fruits and vegetables that I have not yet tried, and learn to ballroom dance.
Old Carpets Defeat Giant Shark!
Although I thought my son Alex would say that the best thing in the Metropolitan Museum of Art was The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living (a giant shark floating in formaldehyde-- some kind of weird installation art) he actually chose "those carpets" as his favorite exhibit, which made me very happy, since that's what I was there to see: these baroque tapestries, which are leaving in a few days, contain images of sea monsters, mythical creatures, battling knights on horseback, lions being stabbed, and depictions of Jesus, Mary, and Neptune, all rendered in precise detail on twenty foot high, hand-weaved masterpieces (one took seven years to make).
Dave Aims High and Falls Short
I'm trying to learn "Dueling Banjos" from the movie Deliverance on my banjo, but parts of it are way too hard for me, and this is depressing since all I want to do is sound as good as an inbred retard.
Whatever Stroke Floats Your Boat
We met a golden retriever today that survived hurricane Katrina-- he must have done a mean dog paddle.
The Gift That Keeps Jiggling
Santa Claus brought me four pounds of belly fat-- how much fat did he bring you? . . . and where did he hide it?
Child's Unfettered Imagination Causes Problem
After my son Alex asked for another impossible Christmas gift-- a radio-controlled flying skull-- my wife said: "This is why we need to let him watch some TV, so he can see some commercials and know about some real toys we can actually buy."
R.I.P. Ed
Ed Otken: gentle giant, childhood friend, the only farmer I have ever known, the only farmer ever to employ me, and the only person I have ever voted for (years ago he ran for Town Council; I think he lost) died on Wednesday (I was thinking of voting in this coming presidential election but now, in honor of Ed-- and my laziness-- I'll never vote for anything again).
Stacey's Story
A story from Stacey that entertained me:
"Last night after I got home from the bar, I walked my dog, and then, just before I was about to go to sleep, someone started pounding on my door and ringing the bell-- needless to say, I was freaked out (especially because I watched "I am Legend" the night before) and hesitant to open the door, but I put a knife on the stairs-- in case I need to defend myself-- and then I turned the knob and opened the door; a wrinkled face said, 'I saw you walking your dog . . . I got your meats . . . I saw you walking your dog, I got your meats' which took me a second to process (especially because the way he said it made it sound like I gotchomeats) but it turned out that my mom shipped me some Omaha steaks and they went to the wrong apartment."
Dave is NOT Hydrodynamic
This morning at the gym, I tried out my new Speedo swimsuit; I bought the straight leg style (which looked to be the size of boxer shorts in the picture) but I didn't account for my large round buttocks-- they ate up a lot of the suit's material-- and as a result I was showing way more skin, hair, leg fat, and gut fat than I had anticipated -- I wish you all could have been there to see it.
Here I Am Now, Entertain Me
I would like it if some of you would pretend you are plotting to kill me-- you know, let me overhear ambiguous snippets of conversation, leave some telling clues around for me investigate, and occasionally say things to me like: "Right, right, if you make it to summer vacation."
Like Freddy Krueger, I Appear in Your Dreams
One of my fellow teachers was dreaming last night about how it wasn't a good idea to let me have a bit part on her imaginary talk show-- according to her boyfriend, she sleep-said, "Letting Dave on . . . not a good idea . . . he'll end up being the star . . ."
First World Problems
Whenever I watch half of a football game and then go to bed, I wake up in the night wondering who won, but I'm too lazy to go downstairs and check-- so next time I'm going to bring the laptop upstairs and leave it on the dresser.
Next Stop: Barbie's Dreamhouse
Yesterday, we took the kids to see "Enchanted" and I kind of liked it . . . can someone please poison me?
Hit Me On the Head, Please
I wish I had a case of selective amnesia (like Jason Bourne) so that I could go back and read the old posts of my blog and it would be like I had never seen them before; I also wish you had amnesia, so you could go back and enjoy them as well.
Xmas Sux
Today in the English office I gave the first of my anti-Christmas rants, and-- as the 25th approaches-- I expect they will increase both in their frequency and in their inclusion of blasphemy and profanity.
I Didn't Leave the Camera on the Roof of the Car!
Last night, my wife spent a good deal of time and energy dressing our children seasonally and then posing them in front of our little fake tree (which she moved from the table to the center of the living room) only to find that when she made the card on the Costco site that someone had changed the resolution setting on the camera from high to low for an Ebay photo of some old Dungeons and Dragons modules (she was hopping mad about this, even though I reminded her that if she hadn't left the old camera on the roof of the car-- the old camera that I didn't know to work-- the old camera that was the subject of the first post of this blog--then this never would have happened, but this logic fell on deaf ears-- and, as punishment, I have to dress the kids and take a new, high resolution photo this afternoon, so while the rest of you are sipping hot chocolate and watching the sleet, I'll be wrestling Alex and Ian into red shirts and trying to get them to sit still and simultaneously smile).
You Had a Hellhound in Your Vagina?
My favorite line in Richard III is what Old Queen Margaret says to Richard's mom, about her hunchbacked malevolent son Richard of Gloucester: "From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept a hellhound that doth hunt us all to death."
A Salty Endorsement
For a good time, head to the city sort of near the sea-- South Amboy-- as one of the natives told me, "It's not just for crusty old fishermen any more."
Divide and Nap
I told Catherine that the reason I don't know how to install the car seat is the same reason that American industry is great: division of labor (she laughed at this, and continued laughing when I pointed out that I am responsible for things like learning to play the banjo, keeping abreast of current debates in science, and this blog, while she is responsible for everything else).
12/9/2007
My grandmother thought Ian (my two year old son) was asking for "meat, meat!" when actually he was saying "treat, treat!"-- so instead of a cookie, he ended up with a slice of boiled ham, which he ate.
12/08/2007
I anticipate that it's going to be a disappointing Christmas for my son Alex, because today he went to see Santa-- and he asked him for a pair of rocket shoes.
12/7/2007
Today, I taught third period (and possibly first and second) with a large dry booger in my nose.
12/6/2007
Yesterday, a female teacher refused to explain what it means to "superman" a girl-- and now that I have looked it up, I know why.
What Gives?
This morning at the gym, when the short guy finished swimming his laps and got into the hot tub, the cute blond lifeguard hopped in with him and they chatted, but when I finished swimming my laps and got into the hot tub, she didn't hop in and chat with me.
12/4/2007
Ian, my two year old son, figured out that if he fake coughs while I'm reprimanding him, it makes me laugh.
Mike Tyson Should Sleep Next to His Pet Tiger
According to the Dr. Seuss classic, "Horton Hatches the Egg," if an elephant broods over a bird's egg, then he creates a flying elephant-- therefore, based on this premise of proximity and DNA leakage, if your dog sleeps next to your pregnant wife every night, she'll produce a werewolf (technically a were-dog, but who can tell the difference?)
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